


Game of the Century

by readergirl1013



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Games, Gen, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Jewish Character, Jewish Comics Day, Jewish Culture, Jewish Identity, Judaism, POV Jewish Character, Sports, Stickball, Yiddish, say no to HYDRA cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readergirl1013/pseuds/readergirl1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes was finally getting a chance to play stickball with the bigger boys on his block, after months of acting the schnorrer and begging his cousin David. It was going great - he'd finally hit the ball and knocked it right out of the park, a home run for sure! At least until the ball hit a little boy - Steve Rogers,  who had been watching them play - right in the mouth as it came down. </p><p> <br/>In other words: A 'how Bucky met Steve' story whose working title was 'Bucky Barnes is a Dramatic Little Sh-t.'</p><p> </p><p>Contains artwork by samthebirdbae!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game of the Century

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Jewish Comics Day 2016.
> 
> There's a lot of the Yiddish - Eastern and Central European Jewish (Ashkenazic) - language and some Hebrew in this story. Simply hover over the words to get the translation. It was brought to my attention that the 'hover' thing doesn't work on tablets, e-readers, and phones so I've provided a list of translations at the bottom as well!
> 
> In this story Bucky's first language is Yiddish. He immigrated from a Jewish town in Romania when he was six, and is currently eight. To express this I inverted the typical 'Foreign language is in italics' custom - **Yiddish is in regular text, while the English is italicized!**
> 
> I am Jewish of Ashkenazi ancestry. I grew up in a Jewish home and have taught at a Jewish school. Many of the words and phrases are things my grandparents have said to me, although some of the conjugation might accidentally be Yinglish so if anyone notices that please let me know!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> This story is dedicated to the family I lost in the Shoah, and all the others who lost their lives in the atrocities of the Holocaust and in World War II. You are remembered and honored.  
>  
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It began with a stickball game. But it was not just any stickball game. It was just about the most important stickball game of the century to the gang of boys that ran that block of Brooklyn. Mostly because **every** game the boys got to play was just about the most important stickball game of the century.

It was 1925, the score was tied, it was the top of the fourth inning and Bucky Barnes was up to bat. Carefully eyeing the pitcher, Chaim Levinsky, Bucky spat on the piece of sidewalk that served as a makeshift home plate and waggled his broomstick back and forth like a real ball player.

“Who do you think you are Barnesy - Jack Fournier? Quit the shtik and play ball!” Asher Goldhirsch shoved Bucky from where he was waiting nearby to bat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky mouthed off quietly, but got into a proper batting position. Asher was twelve and a lot bigger than him. Plus his brother, Selig, was the leader of their group of fellas at almost fifteen, and watching from over on first.

“ _Hey batta, batta_ ,” Feivel Krakowski taunted from right field (if they’d had a field, but it was actually the alley behind the tailors).

Chaim spit on the ball, trying to be Burleigh Grimes, and lobbed Bucky a fast one. Bucky squinted a bit as the ball neared and then swung and…

“ _STRIKE!_ ” Asher shouted gleefully. 

Bucky scowled at him, but Asher just smiled and smiled at him. Bucky narrowed his eyes, Asher was nothing but a bully, a real chamoole. And he didn’t like Bucky at all. Bucky thought that was just fine, as he didn’t like Asher none either. Besides, as his Bubbe would say, 'Yedder aizel lib tsu hern vier alein hirzhet.'

David, one of Bucky’s older cousins, picked up the ball and, upon seeing the chalk on it, grimaced and shrugged at Bucky before wiping it off and tossing it back to Chaim. Bucky sighed but shrugged back before turning back to play. David patted him on the back in commiseration. 

Once again Chaim spat on the ball, and Bucky tried not to grimace. He honestly thought spitballs were disgusting, absolutely chalushisdick, even if the other fellas thought they were ace and that it a crying shame they’d been banned back in ’20. But Bucky couldn’t help scrunching his nose and feeling vaguely nauseous as Chaim rubbed his spit all over the ball. Didn’t he know other fellas had to touch it too? 

He was so sick from watching Chaim smear his spit into the ball that he swung and missed. Again. 

He frowned, the other fellas were all bigger and older than him. They only let him play because of David, who’d sworn he was a good player. They wouldn’t let him play again if he struck out.

Asher let out a loud peal of laughter. “Look at the baby veynen! Look at the tears! I told you David, der pisher doesn’t belong in men’s games!”

“Shut up, Asher,” David called back in his defense. “He isn’t out yet.”

Bucky squared his jaw and got ready for the next pitch. He couldn’t miss. It wasn’t just his chance to play with the bigger boys on the line - David’s reputation with his pals was too.

“ _Trolley!_ ”

The boys scattered, heading to the sides of the road as the rumbling trolley neared. They all watched the trolley roll by, a few of the older fellas called out to a sheynah meydl who was looking out the window. Bucky didn’t see the appeal of girls, or why his older cousins were so interested in them. His father had just laughed and ruffled his hair when he’d said that after Shmuel got stuck on some girl, telling him he’d understand someday. Bucky didn’t want to understand if girls made fellas into a bunch of bozos. 

His eyes caught briefly on a little boy who seemed to have been watching them play with interest down the road. The boy seemed to sense him looking and looked up, offering a tentative smile. 

Bucky smiled back but lost interest after David grabbed his elbow and leaned in to hiss. “Bucky, I swear, you best not embarrass me in front of the fellas.”

“It’ll be fine, gey strashe di gens,” Bucky hissed back with a scowl. “I didn’t know what to expect before, now I do.”

After the trolley was gone the boys all moved back to their former positions. David’s eyes held a warning of the beating he’d give Bucky if he failed to hit the ball. Bucky straightened his cap, bent his knees, and pulled his stick up high over his shoulder - ready for the next pitch. Behind him he heard a boy snort. Asher. Bucky furrowed his brows and glared out at Chaim who was rolling his shoulders with a mocking grin. 

He’d show them. He’d show all of them.

Chaim spat, wound up his arm, and threw with all his might. Bucky was ready. The ball connected with his stick with a solid thunk. The reverberations down the stick from the hit made his hands tremble.

He took off running, checking the path of the ball as he headed for first base. He had just reached the base when he heard a voice some distance away let out a shriek of pain.

Bucky faltered, looking for the sound of the scream. Whoever it was sounded like they were really hurt. He went totally still when he realized that his fly ball had come down and hit the little boy that had been watching them in the face.

Even from a good distance away Bucky could see blood on his face. The boy started crying then, hands coming up to clutch at his punim. 

“What a _sissy_!” Asher shouted, laughing mockingly. Some of the other boys joined in eagerly, but others just chuckled weakly, or didn’t do anything.

Bucky stared for long seconds, watching as beneath the boys hands blood dripped down his chin. A ragged gasp of air, loud enough to be heard easily sent Bucky into motion again. He abandoned the game, forgoing the other bases and what would have been a home run, running towards the crying boy instead.

“Zay moykhel!” he cried out as he neared. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

“ _Wha-?_ ” the other boy looked at him over his hands. “ _I don’t understand you. What’d you say?_ ” His voice was muffled and pained, and his cheeks stained with tears, although he’d stopped crying.

“Oh.” Bucky paused to rearrange his thoughts into English. “ _Sorry. That’s what I was saying, I mean. Are you alright?_ ” He was curious - he’d thought all the kids in the neighborhood spoke Yiddish. 

The boy nodded slowly. “ _Yeah. You got me in the kisser._ ” He pulled his hands away from his face, revealing a nasty looking welt that was already starting to purple on the left side of his mouth and cheek. 

The blood was coming from inside his mouth and Bucky noticed something white on the ground. He leaned down to pick it up, and then two more, staring at them dismally. “ _Uh, here. These are yours._ ” He hesitated before shoving his hand towards the other boy- three small, bloody teeth lying on his flat palm.

The other boy just stared at them for a long minute. One hand came up to delicately touch his cheek, and he reached out to take the teeth from Bucky’s hand, his expression torn between interest and horror.

“ _My teeth._ ”

“ _I’m really sorry_ ,” Bucky said apologetically, hanging his head. His hat fell onto the ground, covering the sprinkling of blood on the ground.

“ _My teeth_ ,” the boy repeated.

“You kinder alright?” Lenny Sarfati asked, looking down at the two boys. He was the only one of the bigger kids that had come over, tall and slim at thirteen. Even David was lingering a distance away.

Bucky looked up at Lenny and said shakily, “I knocked his tseyn out!” He’d responded in Yiddish and his voice had risen in his distress, he’d just had the most horrifying thought. “What if they’re big teeth, and he’s toothless forever! He’ll never be able to ess again, and then he’ll starve and die because I killed him!” Bucky wailed.

Lenny frowned at Bucky. “I doubt it,” he said wryly. “Let me see, kid,” he told the other boy. Bucky was nearly crying, he didn’t want the other boy to die!

The kid looked between Bucky and Lenny, his face still scrunched lightly but in confusion rather than pain. He frowned. “ _What'd you say now?_ ”

Lenny blinked twice in surprise, before saying in English, “ _You don’t know Yiddish, kid?_ ” He sounded torn between amazement and amusement. When the boy shook his head Lenny let out a huff of air, “ _Huh, imagine that. I mean, I’m **Sephardic** an’ I speak Yiddish. You new in town, kid?_ ” 

“ _Uhm, no_ ,” the boy mumbled a bit, Bucky could see his tongue poking gently at where his lip had split a little and his teeth were missing. “ _I was born here._ ”

“ _How come you don’t know Yiddish then?_ ” Lenny asked a bit suspiciously. “ _Stop that,_ ” he swatted the boy’s hand as it moved to poke at his mouth. “ _Let me make sure you ain’t dyin’ or nothin’, else Barnesy here’s gonna faint, kid._ ”

“Hey!” Bucky protested, he wasn’t going to faint.

“ _Steve_ ,” the other boy said mulishly.

“ _What?_ ” Lenny asked distractedly as he gently tilted the boys head to look at the bruise.

“ _My name is Steve._ ” The other boy winced as Lenny’s fingers lifted his upper lip, and pulled down his lower lip, to look at the damage inside his mouth.

“ _I’m Bucky_ ,” Bucky introduced himself, then added, “ _an’ that’s Lenny._ ”

“ _Hello_ ,” Lenny smiled at the younger boy but didn’t stop his inspection of Steve’s mouth.

“ _Pwesuw ta meecha_ ,” Steve slurred around Lenny’s fingers.

After another minute of careful study Lenny released Steve’s mouth. “ _You’ll be fine_ ,” he told Steve. “ _He ain’t dyin’_ ,” he gave Bucky a look. “ _Just lost a canine an’ a couple molars. All baby teeth, new ones’ll grow in soon enough._ ”

Bucky slumped in relief. “Danken G-tt!” he said fervently.

Lenny rolled his eyes. “ _Get your mama to put some ice on it_ ,” he recommended Steve. “ _She can spare a bit for this._ ”

Steve didn’t answer but Bucky saw his eyes shift to the left and his shoulders hunch up. After too long a moment he seemed to force out a curt, “ _Sure._ ”

Lenny raised his eyebrows but didn’t push. “Okurat,” he drawled sarcastically, then shook his head, “ _right_.” He sighed.

“Hey? Are we going to play or what?” Feivel shouted in Yiddish, interrupting them. “Sunset’s in a few hours.”

“ _Right_ ,” Lenny repeated, clapping his hands. “ _Back to the game, eh Barnesy? That was a good hit_ ,” he smirked and tipped his cap towards Steve. “ _Even if it had a shreklekh landing_.”

Steve snorted, mixed amusement and annoyance, obviously understanding the tone if not all of the words. He looked wistfully Lenny as he ran off to join the pair of boys tossing the ball back and forth, while the others were waiting for the game to start up again, before looking back to Bucky. 

Bucky flushed and protested, “ _I didn’t mean to hit you. It was an accident._ ”

Steve shrugged. “ _Yeah. Still did though. Ma’s gonna kill me when she sees this._ ” He pointed to his rapidly swelling and purpling cheek. He shot another wistful glance at the others.

Bucky grimaced and glanced at the bigger boys, he knew they wouldn’t let Steve play. They’d barely let Bucky play, only conceding when David had sworn up and down he wasn’t a baby and could actually hit the ball. Steve looked like he was only five, the same age as Bucky’s little sister Sarah and his cousin Franny, but thin and pale like he’d been sick recently.

“Get a move on Barnes, we don’t have all day,” Lenny called over his shoulder in Yiddish.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. He knew as well as Bucky did that the older boys wouldn’t invite him along. Bucky shuffled his feet and leaned down to pick up his cap. Seeing the sprinkle of blood still on the dirty road he made a snap decision. 

“You fellas go ahead,” he called to the older boys, “I’m going to walk Steve home.”

There were a few raised brows, and a couple of shrugs. Most of the boys didn’t care one way or another what Bucky did - if he wanted to give up playing stickball to walk some kid home what did it matter to them, after all. 

“You sure?” David asked, surprised. Bucky had been acting the schnorrer for a month, begging David to let him come play ball with the bigger boys, after all.

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain the urge to walk Steve home to the others; he just knew it felt like the right thing to do, especially after knocking the other boys teeth out. David shrugged back and went back to the game. 

Asher let out a sharp bark of laughter. “The baby can’t handle playing in the big leagues after all. Antloyfn, baby Barnes, run back and hide under mama’s apron.”

Bucky hunched his shoulders up around his ears and ignored him, turning to Steve, he rearranged his thoughts again and spoke in English, “ _Come on, let’s get you home to your Mama, where do you live?_ ”

“ _Half a block that way_ ,” Steve pointed over Bucky’s shoulder. “ _But, uhm, my Ma ain’t home, she’s working._ ” His words were slurred from his swollen and bruised cheek and mouth.

Bucky frowned. “ _Well_ ,” he said slowly, “ _you need ice, an’ I don’t suppose anyone else is at home for you? Your father or an aunt?_ ” 

He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and began steering him towards his place. His Mama would just cluck her tongue and fill a rag with ice for Steve while scolding Bucky to be more careful. Steve followed along easily

Steve shook his head. “ _My Da died in the Great War. It’s just me an’ my Ma, although I think we got some relatives back in Ireland. An’ we’re rentin’ a room from Mrs. Rosenstein now that her son’s moved to Cleveland, but she has ta work too._ ” He paused, and added shyly, “ _She, uhm, she told me ta call her Bubbe Miriam. Bubbe is grandmother in Yiddish, right?_ ”

Bucky nodded and smiled. “ _Means she likes you._ ” He nudged Steve’s arm with his elbow. “ _She call you bubbeleh, yet?_ ”

“ _All the time!_ ” Steve exclaimed, although his slurred words made it hard to tell what he was saying sometimes, Bucky could understand him easily enough.

“ _Means she **really** likes you_ ,” Bucky confirmed. “ _Calling you bubbeleh’s like_ …” he paused, searching for the English words, “ _Like darling?_ ” he offered after some thought, “ _or sweetie?_ ”

Steve blinked a couple times before turning bright red. “ _I like her, too_ ,” he said quietly, “ _she’s what I always thought a grandmother would be like._ ”

Bucky grinned. “ _Yeah?_ ”

“ _Yeah._ ”

They chatted easily, laughing and joking, on their way to Bucky’s tenement. Bucky’s cheeks hurt from smiling by the time they got to the building, and Steve was alternating between wincing and smiling. Climbing the stairs they had to pause for a minute while Steve coughed. He probably had been kronk recently, between his pale color and the cough, Bucky was certain of it.

They heard voices before they even opened the door, Bucky’s aunt and mother were yelling in Yiddish at somebody. They both paused at the top step, Bucky listening to make sure he wasn’t in trouble too, and Steve listening in concern.

“How could you!” Aunt Golda wailed, “What were you thinking? That money was for the market!”

“I can’t believe this!” His mother continued, “How could you be so irresponsible? So narish? You are the eldest Shmuel, and Avrum you are but a year younger! You are to set a good example for your cousins!”

“We thought we would make more money!” Shmuel protested. “So that we could surprise our cousins with candy.”

“We won at first,” Avrum added sulkily.

“You took the money for market, the gelt for Shabbos dinner tomorrow, and gambled it all away, like a pair of shlemiels!” Aunt Golda shouted, “Di shande! What are we to do? What are we to eat?”

“It wasn't all of the money,” Shmuel muttered.

“GAMBLING!” Aunt Golda started to shout louder, trying to make her point understood through sheer volume.

Bucky looked over at Steve, shrugged, and opened the door. Waving Steve in behind him, he skirted the edges of the living room, staying far from the kitchen, to go to the back bedroom he shared with his sisters and cousins. Passing by his mother and aunt shouting at his despondent cousins Bucky peered in briefly, he was glad it wasn’t him, the older boys would probably get belted when Uncle Moishe got home. Sharing a look with Steve, they slipped into the rear of the tenement. Bucky, his sisters, and his cousins had the room where the window opened up onto the fire escape.

Steve looked around at the cramped beds, and the occasional corner of a box peeking out from beneath them that held clothes. “ _Which one’s yours?_ ” he asked.

Bucky pointed to the bed in the far left corner, “ _I share with Shmuel, he was the one in the brown slacks in the kitchen. David an’ Avrum sleep there, uh, Sarah an’ Rachel there, and Hannah an’ Franny there._ ” He glanced around the room before reaching under his bed and pulling out a small, ragged bag. “ _C’mon_ ,” he gestured for Steve to follow him.

Steve nodded and followed without question as they slipped through the window onto the fire escape. Steve looked around the fire escape with a grin. “ _This is really swell._ ”

“ _Yeah?_ ” Bucky asked. His older cousins and he had tied old ribbons and strings to the bars to make them look fancy. Some of the strings had hand-carved beads on them that Shmuel had made.

“ _It’s real keen, Bucky._ ”

Bucky beamed. “ _I brought us somethin’ to play with ‘til my Mama an’ Aunt stop yelling at Shmuel an’ Avrum. Then Mama will get you ice._ ”

Steve grinned back, his now large bruise making his smile lopsided. Bucky thought the colors sure were pretty though: a dark red mixed with a purple that looked like the night sky in the middle that faded into a deep blue all dotted with red stars, which turned into a swirly mix of medium blues and purples. Bucky opened up the bag, revealing two toy cars and a toy plane he’d built from scraps, a small stack of paper and a pencil, a set of marbles, and, best of all, six toy soldiers from the Great War he’d gotten for his last birthday.

Steve gasped and picked up one of the soldiers. “ _Gee, Bucky, you sure are lucky._ ”

“ _Sure am_ ,” Bucky agreed with a grin. “ _Do you want to play?_ ”

“ _Boy, do I!_ ” Steve cheered, and the boys settled in for a rousing game of soldiers. 

They played until just before sunset, and just as Bucky was enthusiastically fending off a handful of the evil sky-worms (made of the strings) Steve was holding with his soldier, who they’d agreed looked very much like a Bartholomew, his mother called, “Bucky? Are you home?” 

Bucky paused and rearranged his thoughts into Yiddish. “Yes Mama!”

“Supper is ready, bubbeleh, come to eat!”

“Yes mama, I’ll be right there!”

“ _I knew that word!_ ” Steve exclaimed in excitement, sitting up straighter. “ _I knew that. Bubbeleh, means darling._ ”

“Gut- _good job Stevie_ ,” Bucky stumbled over his words, only remembering at the last moment to switch to English. He frowned a bit; having a friend who didn’t speak Yiddish was harder than he thought. Normally he only spoke English at school and when he went out of the neighborhood.

“ _I can teach you Yiddish!_ ” Bucky exclaimed, excited by his own brilliant idea. “ _That way you’ll be able to talk ta everyone in the neighborhood, an’ no one else’ll know you’re Irish._ ” 

Most folks wouldn’t bother Steve now since he was a kid, but once they were bigger the other boys would expect them to help defend the neighborhood from the boys who lived a few blocks over and were looking to start trouble. Specifically they were looking to start trouble with boys who weren’t like them - and the Jews who lived on their block definitely weren’t like the goyim that lived around them. But, Bucky knew, sometimes the older boys on their block would go looking to start trouble too. And Steve, tiny as he was, was living on their block and different - not a Jew, a goy living among them. They might try and start trouble with Steve, and Bucky didn’t want that. He liked Steve.

Steve nodded rapidly. “ _That’d be swell Bucky, thanks!_ ”

Bucky grinned. “ _Mrs. Rosenstein would probably help too._ ” He slid in through the window, Steve slipping through behind him. “ _She prolly misses speaking Yiddish at home now that her son’s moved out._ ”

“ _That’s a good idea._ ” Steve smiled and winced - his cheek was swollen really badly. Then he looked up in horror. “ _Oh no!_ ” He stared out the window at the sun that had just dipped below the horizon.

“ _What?_ ”

“ _I’ve missed supper._ ” Steve said morosely, “ _Bubbe Miriam, she said supper is an hour before sunset an’ that if I wasn’t home I’d only get bread an’ water._ ”

Bucky grimaced, bread and water was not a good supper. “ _You can eat with us,_ ” he suggested, warming to the idea rapidly. “ _You’re tiny an’ we can share my chair, an’ we can get some good, warm food into you before we send you home - my Mama is the best cook, an’ Bubbe is a really good cook too, she taught my Mama. An’ she probably made bread for supper, my Zayde was a baker in the old country, an’ Bubbe helped him every morning._”

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“ _Uh-huh, we’ll have meat too. My Tatti is butcher, along with Uncle Moishe, we have fleishig most nights._” Bucky paused to consider his family’s eating habits, “ _Every few nights_ ,” he amended, “ _an’ milchig for breakfast and lunch. Besides, you’re too little for just bread an’ water; you need to grow more not less!_”

Steve looked at him in confusion for a moment, but then shrugged and said, “ _I s’pose. I really don’t want bread an’ water. Are ya sure your parents won’t mind?_ ”

It was Bucky's turn to shrug. “ _I don’t think they will._ ” He led Steve out of the bedroom and immediately the already loud sounds of his mishpokhe gathering for dinner grew even louder. 

Steve gamely followed Bucky and went to the counter where he took the pitcher and poured the water on his right twice, and then his left hand twice, over the bowl, while praying, “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu mehlech ha-olam, asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu al netilat yadayim.”

Steve looked at him blankly when Bucky handed the pitcher to him. Bucky stared back. 

“ _What do I do?_ ” Steve hissed through his swollen mouth.

“Oh,” Bucky started at the realization not everyone performed netilat yadayim before meals. “ _Here, repeat after me_ ,” he carefully led Steve through the ritual hand-washing, thankful most of his family was either futzing with the food and table settings, too young to care, or in another room.

Discretely opening their cupboard Bucky pulled out the extra plate, glass and utensils to give to Steve before going to the table. Steve sat down in the same chair with him as the women set the last plates onto the table. Bucky resisted snickering as Shmuel and Avrum slipped into the room, both attempting to discretely rub their tuchus \- Uncle Moishe had already belted them if the look on his face as he followed them in was anything to judge by.

“ _That’s my Mama helping my sister Hannah_ ,” Bucky whispered to Steve with a subtle point as his mother washed Hannah’s hands. “ _And my Tatti_ ,” he pointed out his father who was carving the brisket, “ _he’s talking to Uncle Moishe._ ” Bucky continued to discretely point out the rest of his family, from Bubbe Raisa to baby Rachel. 

“ _You’ve got a real big family_ ,” Steve commented, eyes wide.

Bucky shrugged. “ _I s’pose_.” He considered it - his parents, his three little sisters (Sarah, Hannah, and Rachel) and him; Uncle Moishe (his father’s brother), Aunt Golda, Shmuel, and Avrum; Bubbe Raisa (his mother’s mother); and Aunt Perle (his father’s sister), David, and Franny. Compared to Steve, who just had his mother, his family was very large, even though he knew families with many more people.

“ _It must never be boring_ ,” Steve said wistfully.

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “ _Mostly it’s just loud._ ”

“Time for the brachot!” Bucky’s father called. “Hamotzi, ha-adamah, and shehakol.”

Bucky bowed his head in prayer, and elbowed Steve when he just looked around curiously. 

“Baruch atah Adonai…” they prayed, reciting all three of the required prayers over the different foods. They gave thanks to G-d for the bread, meat and vegetables that graced their table that night.

After a moment of silence, Bucky’s father said, “Excellent, and now to eat the delicious dinner prepared by the women of the house!”

Everyone began either serving themselves or passing plates around, the clinking of silverware against porcelain, the slap of meat onto plates, the splash of water into glasses, and the chatter of conversation filling the room.

“Want some tzimmes?” Bucky asked Steve.

“ _What? You’re talking in Yiddish again_ ,” Steve whispered back.

Bucky shook his head, annoyed; his family’s conversation had him forgetting to speak English. “ _Sorry_ ,” he apologized, “ _I asked, do you want some tzimmes?_ ”

“ _What are zee-mes?_ ”

“ _Carrots cooked in honey_ ,” Bucky tried to explain. “ _Sometimes with... dry fruit? It’s sweet, good._ ”

Steve looked at the plate dubiously. “ _Alright._ ”

Bucky smiled at him. “ _You’ll like it,_ ” he assured his new friend, filling his plate with slices of brisket, a slice of fresh, warm bread, and tzimmes. He was relieved - his mother’s brisket was always tender and the tzimmes were soft - Steve would be able to eat easily.

Steve grinned at him after the first bite of his tzimmes. “ _You’re right, it is good._ ” Bucky grinned back before both boys turned their attentions to more important matters - namely, their dinners.

They were most of the way through dinner before anyone noticed Steve.

“Hey,” David said loudly, speaking over Sarah, Franny, and Hannah’s bickering over a hair ribbon. “Bucky, what’s he doing here?”

Everyone paused, turning to look at Bucky. Bucky, whose mouth was full of brisket, blinked a few times as the entire table fell silent. Only to have murmurs and whispers spread rapidly as they all caught sight of Steve.

“Bucky, who is this?” His father demanded, eyeing Steve.

“ _This is Steve_ ,” Bucky answered in English purposefully. “ _He’s my new best friend._ ” Steve flushed bright red, a pleased look on his face.

David stared at him, exclaiming in Yiddish, “He’s a goy you hit with a ball! You never met him before today, how is he your ‘new best friend’?” 

“What’s this?”

“A goy?”

“Why are goyim in the neighborhood?”

“Feh! They have enough streets, and now they want ours?”

“You hit a little boy with a ball?” Bucky’s mother’s voice cut across the chatter. “Is that how he got such a bruise?”

The others fell silent and Bucky flushed and fidgeted. “It was an accident Mama,” he explained in rapid-fire Yiddish, “I hit a homerun, but the ball hit Steve instead of the dirt, and it knocked his teeth out! I thought I’d killed him because he wouldn’t be able to eat anymore! But Lenny, Lenny Sarfati, he says they’ll grow back. So I was going to take Steve to his home - because it was the right thing to do - he and his Mama live with Mrs. Rosenstein, they’re renting her spare room. Except his Mama was working, and Mrs. Rosenstein was working, so we came here to get ice. But you were yelling at Shmuel and Avrum, so we went to the fire escape to play. But then we lost track of time, and Steve missed dinner, so I said he could eat with us!”

Bucky’s mother massaged her forehead briefly. “I think I understood that,” she muttered. His father and the other adults chuckled. 

“Durch shveigen ken men nit shteigen,” his Bubbe remarked, with the well-known (and oft repeated) phrase. Bucky’s cheeks heated even more - he had a bit of a reputation for going off on long, winding, tangents at extremely fast speeds. But Bubbe always said fast talking was a useful skill and it would get him ahead in the world one day.

Steve was looking at him, impressed. “ _I don’t know what you said, but that was ace! But, how did ya breathe?_ ”

The adults who knew English burst out laughing, and Aunt Perle told Bubbe Raisa what Steve had said. 

“ _It is talent, my Bucky has_ ,” his father’s accented English answered Steve’s question. He tilted his head, considering Steve. “ _You are not Jew?_ ”

Steve glanced at Bucky briefly before saying, “ _No sir. I’m Catholic. But, uhm, my Ma normally works extra hours Sundays so we don’t go ta church much._ ” He paused, adding exuberantly, “ _An’ Bucky says he’s gonna teach me Yiddish!_ ”

Bucky’s father remained silent for a long moment, looking between Bucky and Steve, and Bucky waited for his judgement with baited breath. If his father said he wasn’t allowed to play with Steve, he’d be devastated. Steve was fun, he liked making up stories and playing soldiers, and he’d promised Bucky the next time Asher Goldhirsch made fun of him he’d help Bucky fight him- because Steve hated bullies.

Finally, after long moments stretched into eternity in the boys’ minds, Bucky’s father nodded. “ _My Winifred, get boychik ice- his keppe, it is too small for such big bruise! Moishe, give lad more brisket, he need meat on his bones._”

Bucky beamed at his father, who smiled back and reached over to ruffle his hair. After a second of hesitation he ruffled Steve’s hair, too.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By: samthebirdbae, thank you so much! You can find more of her gorgeous work on tumblr @samthebirdbae - go on over and check it out!

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

GLOSSARY:

1\. shtik- act or performance  
2\. chamoole- jerk or jackass  
3\. Yedder aizel lib tsu hern vier alein hirzhet.- Every ass likes to hear himself bray.  
4\. chalushisdick- nauseating or sickening  
5\. veynen- cry  
6\. der pisher- a little squirt or a nobody  
7\. sheynah meydl- pretty girl  
8\. gey strashe di gens- Literally: Go threaten the geese. Implied: You don’t scare me/can’t threaten me.  
9\. punim- face  
10\. Zay moykhel!- I’m sorry!  
11\. kinder- kids  
12\. tseyn- teeth  
13\. ess- eat  
14\. Danken G-tt!- Thank G-d!  
15\. okurat- yeah, sure. (sarcastic)  
16\. shreklekh- terrible, awful, horrible  
17\. schnorrer- beggar  
18\. antloyfn- run away  
19\. kronk- sick, ill  
20\. narish- stupid, foolish  
21\. gelt- money  
22\. Shabbos- Sabbath, Day of Rest  
23\. shlemeils- unlucky, incompetent fools  
24\. Di shande!- The shame!  
25\. goyim- non-Jewish persons, sometimes offensive (depends on how it’s said)  
26\. goy- non-Jew, sometimes offensive (depends on how it’s said)  
27\. zayde- grandfather  
28\. fleishig- Kosher meat meal, no dairy products  
29\. milchig- Kosher dairy meal, no meat products  
30\. mishpokhe- family  
31\. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu mehlech ha-olam, asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu al netilat yadayim.- Hebrew Prayer: Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the washing of the hands.  
32\. netilat yadayim- ritual hand-washing  
33\. futzing- messing around (Yinglish conjugation)  
34\. tuchus- buttocks  
35\. brachot- Hebrew: blessings, prayers  
36\. hamotzi- Hebrew: blessing over bread  
37\. ha-adamah- Hebrew: blessing over vegetables  
38\. shehakol- Hebrew: blessing over everything but bread, cake, wine, fruits, and vegetables  
39\. feh- it stinks, phooey. A disapproving exclamation.  
40\. Durch shveigen ken men nit shteigen.- You can’t get ahead with keeping quiet.  
41\. boychik- an endearment, ‘little boy’  
42\. keppe- head

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review! Reviews give me life. You can find me on tumblr @ readergirl1013 if you prefer to comment that way!


End file.
